May You Find Some Comfort Here
by Trinity Everett
Summary: Tony does his best to offer comfort. Tony/Michelle. Spoilers for seasons 2, 3, and 4 here. Takes place during 4x21 – 3am-4am.


Title: May You Find Some Comfort Here

Characters: Michelle Dessler/Tony Almeida, Chloe O'Brian.

Word Count: 1,080

Rating: PG

Summary: Tony does his best to offer comfort.

Author's Notes: Spoilers for seasons 2, 3, and 4 here. Takes place during 4x21 – 3am-4am. Prompted by featherjean: taking a moment of peace and/or cuteness in the middle of chaos. This is what came to mind.

* * *

He knew she was around here somewhere, but he hadn't seen her in almost ten minutes. Not since she'd preceded him down the steps, shaking the hands of the contingent from the Chinese consulate before sending him to take care of some made up, but incredibly important sounding task. Now he had actual results to give her, and she was nowhere to be found.

"Chloe, have you seen Michelle?"

The young woman released a self-suffering sigh, blowing a piece of thin blonde hair out of her face to give an appropriate demonstration of her exasperation. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing; Chloe was nothing if not predictable.

"She said she was going over to IT to help one of the people she brought from Division, but then she went the other way. I don't really know what that's about, it's not like you guys didn't work here long enough to know your way around, so whatever."

He thanked her shortly, still tapping the folder against his open palm to make it look like he had important things to discuss with the interim director. Really, though, he just needed to see if she was alright. The place she'd gone was where she always went when things got to be too much for her and she needed to hide. It was where he'd tracked her down the day of the bomb; she kissed him for the first time in that hall. It was where he'd gone the day she told him she was going to be fine, that they were gonna be fine, before she'd been kidnapped and his entire life had gone into a ridiculous tailspin. It was where they found each other to begin with, and he hoped that maybe it would be where they could find each other again.

"Hey," he called so she would know who was approaching. He rounded the corner to find her propped against the wall, head tilted back and her eyes closed, bottom lip between her teeth. Before he could get near, she opened her eyes, straightening up and brushing invisible lint off her jacket.

"What's going on?" he asked softly, finally feeling like he might be communicating with her again. "And don't say you're going over to IT, 'cause I won't buy it now either."

She smiled tightly, and he could finally see beneath all those layers she'd been wearing – her anger, her tension, her stress – just how tired she was. Her eyes were bright, almost glassy, a sure sign that she'd be able to pass out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

"I just needed a minute, Tony," she whispered, looking down the hall, at the ground, anywhere but at him.

Momentarily he forgot everything that was still hanging between them, the disagreements, the accusations, the anger, and he stepped closer, lightly reaching out and cupping her elbow in his hand, brushing her bicep lightly with his thumb.

"Hey, everything's gonna be fine. Okay? The Chinese are going to let everything drop, we're gonna find Marwan. You're doing a good job today, Michelle."

She shook her head, her emotions getting the better of her and making her breath hitch. But she didn't shrug him off. She didn't push him away and tell him to get back to work, in fact, she might have leaned closer.

"I'm not. Jack starts an international incident right under my nose, we've lost track of our primary suspect countless times now, the president was nearly killed because we didn't do our jobs right –"

On a whim, his arms slid around her, drawing her into a tight hug. Surprisingly enough she hugged him back, taking the comfort her could offer, even if it was marginal.

One of his hands tangled in her hair while the other circled her back.

"There are about 50 other people in that room alone who share the blame for what's going on today, don't take it all on yourself. It'll eat you alive if you do," he said, finding that he was speaking from experience. He'd hated hiding things from her when they'd been married, just for the sake of the job, and he especially hated how out of control everything had spiraled because he couldn't keep a handle on the blame he'd placed on himself. "Just focus on doing what you can and let us, let me, do what we can. We'll be okay if we do," he whispered into her ear, feeling her fatigue-induced shakes subsiding slightly.

She pulled away just slightly, raising her chin to meet his gaze. He tried to smile, hoping she'd find comfort in that. Her eyes were suspiciously damp, and her bottom lip trembled again, but when his hand slid forward to stroke her cheek, she was able to smile just a tad.

His head lowered, moving slowly nearer to her to give her the chance to pull away. She didn't, but she didn't move closer either, but he knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't still be here if she wasn't okay with it. His lips brushed hers, just a light trace to remind him how it felt to share her breath before he ducked a little closer, sealing his mouth over hers. He felt her hands tighten on his back as she slowly returned his kiss.

"Michelle, Buchanan's looking for you. He wants those results from the priority searches," Chloe called down the hall, probably having rounded the corner and decided to back away.

Michelle's hands left his back first and reluctantly her mouth slid away from his. Gently she touched his upper lip with a finger, sliding it over his mouth and wiping away whatever trace of her lipstick he was now wearing.

"Michelle?"

"I'll be there in a second, Chloe," she called, most of the strain gone from her voice. "Thank you," she added in a whisper, touching his shoulder gently with her hand. He noticed that her shaking had stopped.

"Anytime," he promised, meaning it. As she started to walk away, he glanced down at the folder in his hand. "Wait, Michelle."

She stopped, angling her body just slightly back toward him. "Those search results," he explained sheepishly, gesturing with the folder. Smiling again, she took the envelope from his hand and opened it, scanning the contents briefly so she could pretend that he'd been briefing her privately.

"Thanks," she said again softly, rounding the corner and disappearing from view.

The end.


End file.
